


Best Kept Secrets

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Pre-Season One AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:51:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was Regina's best kept secret; now she's his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to repeatinglitanies for this amazing prompt! 
> 
> Story is rated M due to mentions of dark themes scattered throughout. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time. All characters and rights belong to ABC, Adam Horowitz, and Eddy Kitsis.

_"You knew!"_

Mr. Gold looks up from the antique necklace he’s cleaning and raises a brow quizzically. 

"Knew what, exactly?"

Regina stomps forward, her usual regal strut missing in her frantic and angry quest for answers. “The child that you located for me in Phoenix. His mother was found in the woods outside Storybrooke _eighteen years ago.”_

Gold doesn't understand the significance of this fact, but it’s clear Regina is deeply troubled by the news. He’s not sure why the mother’s age and origins matter - she’d wanted a child to fill the void in her life, but it seems instead she has found yet something else to turn into a dramatic tantrum. Gold knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but for some reason her reaction to this information, information she should not even be privy to, intrigues him. If he plays his cards right, perhaps he can get to the root of this issue and gain some ammunition against the mayor. He doesn’t have it out for her, not exactly, but nothing brings him more amusement in this quiet, dull town, than causing strife for the woman before him. 

"What a startling coincidence," he says, unable to help the mocking tone. 

_“Eighteen years ago!”_ Regina stresses, as if that is supposed to trigger some sort of memory. Eighteen years ago he’d been….he couldn’t quite remember what occurred eighteen years ago, but that wasn’t terribly important. 

"I’m missing the significance," he admits, "You have to forgive me; my memory isn’t what it used to be." 

Regina’s eye twitches, and it seems to have been the wrong thing to say. Gold’s not sure why she cares whether or not he remembers some vague instance that she is referring to, but he’s enjoying watching he squirm. 

He can sense her rage growing. She glares for a moment then snaps, “Henry’s mother was found as a baby on a very significant day. The day this town-” She stops, looks stricken by what she was about to say and tries again, “This town…” 

Gold, who usually prides himself on being a patient man surrounded by complete imbeciles, is quickly losing that well-developed patience. It’s one thing to have an argument or debate with the woman - she’s the only one in this town who has the wits to even attempt it - but she’s not making any sense. She’s clearly paranoid about something, but she isn’t saying what, and Gold has no idea what game she’s playing. And he’s getting tired. 

"This town what?" He sighs, giving her one last chance to start making sense before he kicks her out of his store with cutting remark about how motherhood doesn’t seem to be suiting her, physically or mentally. 

"She’s important, isn’t she?" Regina asks, "This mother, this _Emma Swan.”_

Gold stares at Regina, and suddenly all the annoyance he feels toward her melts as he suddenly _remembers._ The curse, his son. _Belle_. It’s hard not to show emotion, to keep up a persona that’s suddenly no longer him, and yet _has_ been him for the past eighteen years. But he manages, and allows himself to process what he’s just learned.

Emma Swan, the Savior, has a child. And that child is now in Storybrooke, under the care of the Evil Queen. If Regina wasn’t standing before him, watching his every move with obvious suspicion, he’d laugh. It’s all too ridiculous and downright lucky on his part, that the random child he’d procured for his student-turned-rival would be the son of the woman who will break the curse. 

He’s got ten years to go, he realizes with a blink. But what’s ten years after centuries of trying to get here? He can wait. And he has plenty to keep him occupied while he does. 

Recalling that Regina is waiting for an answer, Gold - _Rumplestiltskin_ , his mind quietly supplies, answers Regina’s question with the same vague riddle-some manor that was true to his old impish self. “Is she important? I suppose that as much as she gave birth to your son.” 

Regina’s eyes narrow, and if Rumplestiltskin squints he can see a small vein in her forehead beginning to show. She’s clearly livid about this, as she should be. The first knot in their elaborately weaved curse has just been undone. And it’s going to be a thrill to watch it all eventually fall apart. 

They continue their conversation, which blissfully ends sooner rather than later, and Regina storms out of the shop, cursing and even more unsatisfied than when she arrived. 

Now that she’s gone, Rumplestiltskin limps forward, suddenly very aware of the pain in his leg, and locks up the shop. He’s just had an entire lifetime revealed to him within the blink of an eye, and he needs time to properly evaluate the situation. Closing all the blinds so no one can peek in - though who would want to? - Rumplestiltskin moves to the back of the shop and sits wearily on the small daybed that’s been there….forever. 

Leaning forward, he rests his head in his hands and shuts his eyes. The memories begin rolling in front of him like a film - a term he recognizes, though suddenly it feels like a foreign word he only vaguely understands. Mr. Gold enjoys a good film. Rumplestiltskin has never seen one. But the memories play forward anyway, and he tries to remain calm as he recounts all the painful memories of his life anew. It’s hard, remembering everything after eighteen years of blissful peace. But despite all the bad, there are good memories too: nights when Bae was a child where they would sleep under the stars; his time with Belle. 

That set of memories are particularly painful. Belle, the beautiful caretaker who’d captured his heart and offered hers in return. Belle, the wise and caring woman who’d been shut out because she dared to love the one most found to be unlovable. Her fate was unfair, and entirely his doing. Standing, Rumple limps over to the display case near the register and pulls out the chipped cup that rests inside. He’s never understood his reluctance to part with the tea cup. It’s a sole piece, the others in the set long since missing. Destroyed, his mind recalls. Mr. Gold had kept it solely because he hated to throw anything away. Rumplestiltskin now realizes that even without his memories, Belle had been in his heart, and he’d kept the only thing he had left of her. 

He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until that moment, and it’s only when a tear falls into the cup that he realizes he’s crying. His life had been so bright with her in it, and now it’s empty, hollow. Full of useless trinkets and void of love. For a moment, he almost envies Regina. She now has a child, a son, whom she can raise. And of course she won’t appreciate it. She won’t cherish that boy’s first words or first steps. Not like he had. Baelfire had been _everything_ to him. This child, Henry, is just another object for Regina to possess. 

Shaking away those thought, Rumplestiltskin puts the cup back inside the display case, then thinks better of it and pulls it back out. It’s too precious to sit in a case, collecting dust. It’s a symbol of his love, and it deserves a special place in his home. It should be were Belle would have been. 

That thought gives him pause. What would Belle be like in this world? Would they have been together, or would Regina take pleasure in seeing them apart? Would their story resemble their past? He can almost imagine her being his assistant, fussing at his mess of a shop and spending her time rearranging items to make them more presentable, dusting, and spreading her light and warmth with every step. He can easily imagine a scenario similar to their days in the old world, falling in love over tea and hesitant conversations where she impresses him with her wit, compassion, and loveliness. 

He can picture a fateful day in which their teasing turns into something _more_ , and suddenly she trades smacking him with a feather duster to popping her lips against his in a quick kiss before someone walks in and catches the monster of Storybrooke in a tender moment. 

It’s all too perfect and wonderful, and Rumplestiltskin curses himself for ruining his chances at happiness yet again. Belle isn’t at the shop teasing him. She’s dead. It’s not fair, but life has never been such, and so Rumple clutches the cup closer and vacates the shop for his equally cluttered yet empty mansion, where a bottle of scotch is waiting to help him drown his memories enough so that he can continue the charade of Mr. Gold, the monster of the otherwise quiet and sleepy town of Storybrooke. 

* * *

It doesn’t take him long to figure out a routine. He has to be careful because, despite a squawking infant attached to her, Regina is still as perceptive as ever, and Rumplestiltskin knows that if he’s going to stay under the radar for the next ten years, he’s going to have to stay one step ahead of the Queen. 

So he sticks to his normal routine of opening the pawn shop every morning at precisely eight o’clock. His precision is a well-known trait throughout the town, and just as he never misses a beat when it comes to opening the shop, he is equally as punctual with the rent collection he does every first day of the month, without fail. Mr. Gold accepts no excuses when it comes to missing rent: pay or vacate. All contracts are air-tight, read through by the tenant - a fact Mr. Gold had always been insistent on. He would not tolerate a violation of agreement with the excuse of ‘not knowing it was in the contract’. 

After eighteen years playing the role, it’s easy to be the vicious tenant no one likes. He’s used to it, as he’d been used to being reviled as the Dark One. This is simply another form of power, and Mr. Gold had reveled in it. Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, looks at the young, pregnant Ashley - _Ella_ , his mind registers - who claims to not have the full amount. Rumplestiltskin remembers poverty, remembers a time when he barely had enough to eat and had even forsaken a meal to allow his son to have dinner. A small part of him desperately wants to just take the amount owed and make her swear not to tell a soul. 

But he can’t trust her. Not in a cursed town where the only two people who know they’re cursed are rivals. So he can’t offer charity. It’s too much of an alteration to his character, and Regina will discover it sooner than later. If he does it for one, he’ll have to do it for all, as that is only fair. So he steels himself, and tells Ashley in no uncertain terms that if she does not have the money by the end of the day, she will be evicted. He leaves the young woman in tears, and tries to remind himself that it’s all an act. He’s always been a monster, but he’s never been this monstrous. 

_Yes you have_ , his thoughts shoot back, and he recalls Belle once more, storming out of the dungeon he’d thrown her in. He thinks of Bae, whose hand he’d let go of in a moment of sheer panic and fear. He isn’t that monstrous, he decides. He’s far worse. 

Once the rent is collected, and three more families are reduced to tears by his cold, ruthless manner, Rumplestiltskin decides to take his mind off the thick wad of cash and checks in his pocket and acquaint himself with the town he’ll call home for another ten years. He knows exactly where everything is, but every time he lays eyes on a familiar building, it’s like seeing it for the first time. Granny’s Diner, which he occasionally goes to for a much-needed cup of coffee is bustling with life for the dinner rush. He spots through the window a tall, slender woman with legs that never seemed to end, only halted by tight red shorts. She wears a white button down shirt that might have been professional had it not been tied in a knot above her naval, and she walks with an uncaring and lazy gait as she chomps on a piece of gum. 

He remembers little Red with her hooded cape. She’d been a bold and caring young woman back in the old world. Apparently Regina has decided to make her a tramp, though Rumplestiltskin can think of no instance in which Red had personally offended the other woman. But, most of these people had been innocent, and yet they are here. It seems Regina has a sick sense of humor when it comes to taking away people’s happiness. 

He feels a brief moment of pity for Granny, who no doubt has put up with a lot in the form of her cursed granddaughter, then carries on, wondering what other familiar things he might see for the first time. 

He passes by the pharmacy, where the ever-sneezing pharmacist nods at him as he locks up for the evening. Some things haven’t changed, even in a cursed state, Rumple muses as he walks on. His absent stroll leads him to the library which houses the broken clock at the top of the tower. Rumplestiltskin feels a pang of longing hit him as he takes in the boarded windows and locked door. Belle would have loved this place. His previous daydream of her working in the shop suddenly seems far too unrealistic, even for a cursed world. No, if Belle were alive and in Storybrooke, she would be here, a librarian surrounded by her _other_ True Love: books. Rumplestiltskin envisions a scenario where he visits the library every day, both of them blissfully cursed and unaware that they are already very much in love. They flirt cautiously over books, Mr. Gold always checking out the book she suggests, simply because she recommends it. He’ll stay up far too late reading it so he can return it the next day and talk to her about its contents, arguing with her over their interpretations of the subject matter. She’ll always be right, but he’ll never let her know that. She’ll ultimately recommend a romance - maybe Pride and Prejudice or some other classic - and he’ll return it with a handwritten note that expresses his desire to romance her as Darcy ultimately romances Elizabeth. She’ll flush and he’ll feel like a fool until she leans over the desk and kisses him, and all will be as it should. 

It’s a lovely thought, but it’s never to be, and Rumplestiltskin sighs as he steps closer to the library and peeks inside, squinting to see through the boarded windows that are patched over with old newspapers. He can see a row of books inside, and for some reason, knowing that the library is stocked is more painful than finding it empty. There are books within, gathering dust and longing to be read. And Rumplestiltskin has ten years to spare. He’ll read them all, if no one else will. And he’ll do it for Belle. 

He leaves the library, if only to avoid suspicion and returns later that night, well after everyone with decent intentions have gone bed. He picks the lock with ease - it’s a skill he knew in the old world, and working in a pawn shop where locked items greet him on a daily basis has only honed the skill further. He opens the door, wincing when it creaks from lack of use. He looks behind him and finds with relief that no one is there. Turning back around he flicks on his flashlight and steps inside. 

The library is musty, and Rumplestiltskin coughs as dust and stale air enter his lungs. He pulls out his handkerchief from his breast pocket and presses it over his mouth and nose. It doesn’t help much, but it’s an improvement, and so he carries onward, cane and flashlight clutched awkwardly in one hand while the other hand keeps the cloth over his face. 

He absently wanders the aisles, seeing glimpses of books ranging from astronomy to cooking to romantic fiction to a medicine. It’s everything Belle could have wanted. He walks more, feeling more and more heartbroken as he takes in all the books that have never been touched. Why is the library shut down, he wonders? Is reading such a sin? Then he remembers that the curse is to destroy everyone’s happiness. Reading had never provided Regina with much joy, but of course she would keep the public from having an outlet from which to escape their dull existences. To read tales of adventure, to have a place where imagination can flourish is too good, and Regina had been adamant about making sure no one was happy but herself. 

Rumplestiltskin continues to wander the shelves, making a mental note of some books that he might enjoy reading. He ends up circled back around the library and near the front, where a strange door rests. Intrigued, he approaches the door and tries to open it, but finds it locked. He shines the light over all the strange mechanisms surrounding the door and finally presses a large button that causes the old doors to rattle and slide open. Curious, but knowing he probably shouldn’t do this, he steps inside and the door slips shut. His only option is to go down, he thinks, so he presses the _B_ button and stumbles as the elevator wrenches to life, its gears and ropes not used to working after such a long time. 

The elevator lurches to a stop, and the door opens and Rumplestiltskin steps out, flashlight ready, only to gasp in surprise and stumble back inside the elevator. He presses the button that pushes the door shut and slams his hand on the _G_ button, which will take him back to the ground floor. When he stumbles onto the solid ground of the library floor, it’s with gasping breath and a feeling of utter horror. Unable to help himself, and because he needs to say it out loud to really grasp the concept, he cries out, “There’s a bloody dragon in the basement!” 

He’s on his hands and knees, in utter disbelief. It’s not a too farfetched concept for Rumplestiltskin, but he has spent the last eighteen years as Mr. Gold, and it’s a bit of a shock to the system so see a _dragon_ in an otherwise magicless town. 

Then Rumplestiltskin remembers something very important. The True Love potion he’d tasked Prince David into hiding _in_ the dragon is here. In the basement of the library that only he has access too. Rolling so that he is flat on his back in the middle of a dark, dusty library, Rumplestiltskin laughs madly. At length he calms, and pushes himself up. It’s not an easy process, his leg is hurting a great deal tonight, but he manages to stand and brushes himself off. He’s made it to the Land without Magic and he has a bottle of True Love stored inside a dragon in the basement of an abandoned library. Well, that might be a more reasonable excuse to keep the library closed, he thinks. There’s no easy way to explain a dragon to a town full of people who don’t realize dragons exist.

Suddenly in a much better mood, he pushes himself through the shelves and pulls out two books to take home with him. He wants to take more, recalling how Belle would carry five and six books at a time, but limits himself to two. His briefcase can only carry so much, and he doesn’t want to be slowed down by the weight of the books. At any rate, he has time, and he’ll get through the books eventually. 

He sneaks out of the library, making sure the door is barred as he goes. It won’t do for someone else to sneak inside. Especially with what lies sleeping in the basement. That would _surely_ jog some memories, he thinks with a wicked grin. But it’s not time for that. Not yet. But it does make him feel better about the entire situation, to know that there’s an end to all of this, and it rests in the mother of the Evil Queen’s son. He’s one step closer to his own son, and with that thought he makes his way back to his home, whistling a merry tune as he walks. 

* * *

Months go by, though no one notices a thing. The weather stays crisp and cool, and Rumplestiltskin watches from the fortress that is his pawn shop as the clueless residents go about the same routine every day. He watches as the mayor struts about, finally looking as if the baby carrier hanging on her arm actually belongs there. 

Rumplestiltskin, for his part, manages to keep himself occupied. He finds himself going a little stir-crazy at times, but blames that on the fact that he is suddenly _very_ awake in a town that is asleep. He has an abundance of energy he doesn’t know what to do with, and he finds himself fidgeting as he waits for time to pass and the Savior to arrive.

He visits the library frequently, and by the time a year since his awakening passes, he’s read over two hundred books. When he’s not reading, devouring the literature of the world in an effort to feel closer to Belle, he watches. He finds a book on bird watching in the library, a concept that admittedly interests him, but he finds himself more interested in watching people. He watches as Ella struggles, as Mary Margaret- the once brave Snow White turned meek-as-a-mouse school teacher, and tries to resist the urge to shake the young, doe eyed woman to bring her to her senses. It’s infuriating to see the brave princess so timid and resolute, so obedient and cautious when he knows within lies the heart of a lion. It’s one of the few things he hates about being awake: seeing all the wasted potential in people he once begrudgingly respected. He knows it isn’t their fault, it’s Regina’s, but he longs to banter with Snow White, to insult Maleficent, or even to have a cautious heart-to-heart with Prince David. 

Rumple realizes with a start that he hasn’t seen David at all, in the entire time he’s been awake. Even before then, Mr. Gold had never interacted with the dashing and daring shepherd. That doesn’t sit well with Rumplestiltskin, and he decides that his next big discovery will be to locate the missing princeling. 

He’s made multiple smaller discoveries since the incident with the dragon. He’s searched records and found people’s identities, silently cataloging them away in his mind. Some he recognizes instantly; others take a little more prodding around to figure out. But even still, as he matches names and faces with their cursed alter egos, he still can’t stop the growing pit in his stomach that something horrible has happened to the prince that fathered the Savior. 

It’s this nagging curiosity that leads Rumplestiltskin to dig through his own records, which come up suspiciously short. There’s _nothing_ on the man, nothing to indicate he ever existed at all, which Rumplestiltskin knows can’t be right. Then he takes a moment to mull over that thought. The best way to ruin Snow White’s happiness would be to keep her separated from the man she loves. His eyes widen as he reflects on how Regina’s motivation stemmed from the murder of her own beloved and doesn’t even have to question whether or not she would do such a thing for revenge. The woman tore out her own father’s heart to enact a curse; of course she would have no qualms about removing the heart of the man her bitter rival loved. 

Feeling bile rise in his throat, Rumple closes his book that contains numerous records. In this life he doubles as a lawyer, as well as businessman and landlord, and so he has access to a variety of records, both public and private. But what he wants naturally wouldn’t be in his possession: that would be too easy. 

He knows if there are any records on David, they will be under close watch in Regina’s domain, a place he only ventures when absolutely necessary. He debates on breaking into her office to search, but he doesn’t even know what to look for. He only knows the man in the old world, he doesn’t know his cursed identity, or if he’s even here. What would be a worse fate than to have left a deceased Prince ‘Charming’ in the other world. It makes Rumplestiltskin sick to think about; he knows the bitter sting of a lost love. Regina does as well. It’s a fate he wouldn’t wish on anyone - not even Regina herself - but it seems they have decidedly different opinions on that particular subject. 

He tries to stay his curiosity, but ultimately it wins out, and so he pays a visit to the hospital. Dr. Whale can’t be trusted - he’s far too close to the mayor in this world, but some of the lower nurses are not. He bribes one who rents from him to let him into the records room, adding a threat that if he’s caught she’ll be evicted and her stuff removed before her shift ends. The girl is terrified to say the least, and Rumplestiltskin thanks the heavens that his alter ego instills such tremendous fear. 

He searches through the records at a lightning fast speed, pulling out file after file, searching for anything that might give him an answer. After half an hour in the room, he knows he’s pushing his luck. He restores everything back to where it belongs and slips out of the room, nodding curtly to the quivering nurse as he struts past. As he walks, he sees Mary Margaret, who apparently is such a sweet little do-gooder in this life that she volunteers at the hospital, and slows his pace. She’s passing out small vases of flowers, and occasionally hands someone a poorly drawn card that no doubt came from the students in her classroom. He stands at a distance, watching the girl as she gently holds hands and whispers kind words to those who are awake. Snow, in the time he’d known her, had displayed that same kindness, though here it seemed to shine through more than her other features. It was a comfort to know that not all of the brave princess had been locked away.

He watches as she reaches the end of the row, then enters the room at the end. There’s someone inside, hooked up to numerous monitors. He’s separated from the rest of the people, and Rumplestiltskin feels his heart thud loudly in his chest as he begins to step forward. He watches as Mary Margaret places a small vase on the table next to the bed, and pauses for a long moment before resting her hand gently on top of the man’s. Rumplestiltskin stands at the window, trying to remain expressionless as he takes in the unconscious form of the very prince he’d been searching for. His breath catches in spite of his efforts. Beside him, someone speaks. 

"Do you know him?" 

Turning quickly, Rumplestiltskin blinks as Mary Margaret jumps back. He’d been so caught up in the moment he hadn’t seen her exit. 

"No," Rumplestiltskin supplies softly before turning back to look at the prince, "What happened?" 

"We don’t know," Mary said softly, "The Mayor found him one way in the forest. He’s been here for as long as I can remember." 

“Do they know his name?”

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “He’s a John Doe. It’s very sad.”

He nods in agreement, and Mary turns away. None of what the petite woman says to him comes as a surprise. Of course the Mayor found him. Of _course_ he’s been unconscious this entire time. It’s one thing to watch the love of your life die; it’s another to be so close to the one you love and yet kept apart. Mary Margaret doesn’t know this man is her True Love, her husband. She doesn’t know they’ve a beautiful daughter somewhere in the world. It dawns on Gold, though he’s not sure why it didn’t register sooner, that Snow White’s grandson is the adopted son of her step-mother. _That_ gives Rumplestiltskin a headache, and with a shake of his head, he exits the hospital. As he leaves, he can’t help but wonder what other secrets lie within those walls. It’s a large place, and if there’s a dragon in the basement of the library and an unconscious prince in the critical care ward of the hospital, there’s no telling what else Regina has hidden in the crevices and corners of this shady little town. 

And Rumplestiltskin is going to uncover every single secret that bitch has. One way or another, he’s going to uncover them all, until she has nowhere left to hide. 

* * *

Time goes on, in its way. They are frozen, but Rumplestiltskin has taken to keeping a small note in his ledger, with markings on it to indicate the passage of time. He doesn’t have anything else written, just in case the ledger were to ever be stolen in some unlikely event. But Rumplestiltskin has always been one step ahead of the game. Mr. Gold continued that tradition. He’s not going to falter now, not when he’s so close to his end goal. 

By his count it’s been three years and four months since he woke up. In that time, he’s made several discoveries. He’s located numerous people he’d been curious about, and keeps an eye on them in regular intervals. Most of the ones he’d really been wandering about had been easy to find: most of them owe him money in this world. That makes it very convenient to keep an eye on some of them. The one who catches his attention the most, out of everyone he’s ever dealt with, is the florist Moe French. 

In this world Belle’s father is a struggling florist, who just happens to owe Mr. Gold a large sum of money. Rumplestiltskin feels equally gleeful and guilty over that fact. He blames the man completely for his beloved’s death - what sort of father shuts out their child for simply loving someone? - and it takes everything in him not to revel in the fact that the man is in his debt. But then he thinks of Belle, and the sacrifices she’d made to ensure the safety of her family and friends. She would not appreciate him taking advantage of her father in such a manner. 

But Belle isn’t here, Rumplestiltskin reminds himself bitterly, and it’s because her father had sent her to her death. 

But the man is his only other connection to Belle, and so he watches the man from a distance, only approaching once a month to remind him of the terms of their loan and tries not to feel too good about the fact that the florist’s hands shake as he hands over what little money he has.

The memory of Belle haunts him however, and Rumplestiltskin can’t shake the shame he feels when he takes Maurice’s money. Rather than forgiving the debt - something he can’t do if he wants to keep Regina off his back - he begins to visit the flower shop once a month to purchase a bouquet of flowers. He always buys the most expensive thing available, under the pretense that he is a rich man and can buy what he wants and owes no one an explanation. Really it’s to put a bit of money in Maurice’s pocket, something he only does because he knows it would make Belle happy. Even in death, she’s making him a better man.

Maurice takes his new customer in stride, always making sure the bouquets are delivered promptly and contain the freshest and loveliest flowers of his inventory. It’s a small and strange gesture on Rumplestiltskin’s part, to buy flowers from his dead love’s father, but it keeps Belle in the forefront of his mind - not that that is hard to do - and he sits in his lonely little shop, sniffing roses and pretending that Belle had been the one to gather them.

From the other side of the window, Rumplestiltskin can see Regina walking down the street, trying to look elegant and regal despite tugging on the hand of her curious and impertinent child. Rumple smirks as the boy points at something across the street with intense interest, and watches as Regina huffs and sweeps the boy up into her arms, ignoring his protests. With a shake of his head, Rumplestiltskin goes back to admiring his flowers. Regina is too busy with her rambunctious boy to bother him, and as long as she is preoccupied, he is safe to carry on as he wishes. 

Even as he carries on as normally as possible, thoughts of the hospital stick in his mind. He hasn’t pursued investigating further, wanting to put as much time in between visits to eliminate suspicion. One can only bribe nurses so many times. But the nagging feeling in his gut that ultimately led him to Charming remains and grows, and Rumplestiltskin just knows that Regina is hiding something in there. 

He can’t really find something if he doesn’t know what he’s looking for though, so after another five months of making idle discoveries of who people really are - and making a mental list of which items in his shop actually belong to those people. Turns out he’s been selling items to people who’d already owned the thing in question. He’s not going to stop; it’s money in his pocket. But people seem to be drawn to the items they owned in the previous world. It’s an interesting thing, really. But like these people, who don’t know they need what they’ve found, Rumplestiltskin doesn’t know what he needs. But it’s something, and the only person who can lead him to the answers to questions he doesn’t yet have is the Evil Queen herself. 

So Rumplestiltskin takes to watching her. It’s not a particularly enjoyable habit, especially once he discovers the affair between Regina and the Sheriff of Storybrooke. He can’t imagine the man is there willingly, and after a few more weeks of following Regina around closely, he catches her at the cemetery, where she disappears into a mausoleum for an hour. Once she leaves, Rumple investigates further and discovers without much surprise that Regina has a magical vault underground. He notices the wall with small drawers that surrounds him, and it doesn’t take long to figure out that one of those hearts belongs to the Sheriff. It’s the only one that’s glowing, the only one that seems to be _alive_ , and Rumple tries his best not to vomit as he thinks of the poor man, forced into Regina’s bed. Forced to _like_ being in Regina’s bed. 

The woman has taken evil to an entirely new level. 

It’s one of his more disheartening discoveries, but he carries on, knowing that with every secret he uncovers, the less power Regina will ultimately have. 

Once he leaves the mausoleum, Rumplestiltskin can think of only one place to go: the library. He’s come to think of the place as Belle’s, even though she’ll never be alive to see it. It’s a sanctuary for books, and he recalls with a fluttering heart her reaction to the library he’d given her back in the old world. She’d been so happy, and he’d been so uncertain, hoping to pass off the token of affection as a new room to be cleaned. She’d seen right through him, and he suspected that was the moment she knew she had complete control over the Dark One. Dagger or no, Belle could have commanded anything of him, and he would have done it. 

Except to trust that she could love him. Now he regrets ever doubting her, and spends countless hours at night sitting in what should have been her sanctuary, paying penance the only way he knows how. Belle would have loved this place. He would have loved to share this place with her. 

He sits in one of the old, dusty chairs with a romantic tale in hand. It’s about all he can stomach after coming across the wall of hearts. He’d taken hearts in his day. Milah comes to mind. There’d been only one or two others, as the act was too disgusting for him to continue. Teaching Cora and Regina had been a necessary evil, but they seemed to revel in the ability. With those thoughts in his mind, he needs something frivolous and innocent to chase away the darkness that threatens to settle in. He can drown in his sorrow or he can be brave for once in his life and fight, and he chose the latter. Again, images of his brave Belle flash in his mind, and he knows that he has to be brave for her. 

There will come a time when those responsible for her death will pay. But it isn’t now. So he turns the page and continues to read the romantic tale, imagining that he is the handsome hero, and Belle is the lovely heroine. It is never to be, but it doesn’t stop Rumplestiltskin from dreaming. 

Sometimes he wonders if having his memories is a worse curse than forgetting. 

* * *

He doesn’t want to call himself a stalker, but there are days when that is _exactly_ how he feels. Trailing Regina was no easy feat, but he’s pulled it off so far. She rarely strays from her routine: She stays at the office during the day, then goes straight home after work to relive the babysitter. On Tuesdays she goes out for dinner at Granny’s, and on Friday’s she has….company. 

Once a month there is a town meeting that he attends religiously. Other than that, Regina keeps to herself, not having many friends, though once every two months she does have lunch with a woman Rumplestiltskin discovers is the former Princess Abigail. 

Her schedule is strict and never changing. So it comes as a surprise when one day, after dinner at Granny’s, Regina makes her way to the hospital instead of home. He’s only been following her closely for a few months, but even before then, he’d had no idea that she visited the hospital. Perhaps it was to stare at the unconscious form of Prince David and revel in her victory? He wouldn’t put it past her. But, it’s a deviance from the norm, and Rumplestiltskin is determined to uncover every secret Regina has stashed away in her little playground. So he follows, doing his best to remain unnoticed. Should anyone ask, he is going for a stroll, since it’s a nice night out. No one will believe him, but no one will question him either, and so his only concern is Regina. 

He touches his side, where under his suit coat rests his handgun. He’s taken to carrying it on his spying excursions, knowing that he is useless without magic. Regina doesn’t have any either, at least not outside her vault, but he wants to make sure he maintains the upper hand at all times. Regina may be powerful, but a bullet has no preference. It affects everyone the same, in the end. 

His tension lessening slightly at the reassurance that it was at his hip, Rumple watches as Regina goes inside, counts to twenty, and follows her. He walks in casually, and no one looks twice at him. Everyone is bustling about, which is all the better for Rumplestiltskin. 

Despite his limp, he is able to keep an eye on Regina, who walks briskly. In her hand, something Rumplestiltskin hadn’t noticed before, is a single red rose, which causes his skin to bristle. He knows people bring roses to loved ones. Roses aren’t just associated with his long lost love. But something about the rose sets him on alert, and he feels that Regina’s biggest secret yet might be waiting for a rose. 

Rumple stops as he watches Regina reach a door, enter a code, and then slip inside. None of the nurses pay the Mayor any mind, and Rumple feels his curiosity and suspicion double. Something important is behind that door and is just waiting for him to discover it. He leaves after that, not wanting to let Regina catch him in the same place as her. He’s remained under her radar thus far, and it has been several months since they’d had a conversation. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself now.

He returns to his home, his leg screaming in agony by the time he collapses into his chair in the study. He pours himself a glass of scotch, and sits pensively, wondering how to get past that door, and more importantly, wonders what he will find on the other side. 

In the end, it isn’t as hard as he thought it would be. He tracked down the nurse he’d bribed before, and after a few well-placed threats she finally admits that the Mayor seldom visits and only ever goes through that door. She never visits anyone else, she never speaks to anyone. It’s straight through that door, and then ten minutes later, back out without a word to anyone. That confirms his suspicions. Regina is definitely hiding something. 

With a few more threats, the girl is able to give him the access code to the door. He doesn’t question how she got it, and the poor nurse doesn’t offer to reveal her source. For all he knows, the girl went straight to the Mayor and this is all an elaborate trap. 

But that’s what the gun is for. 

Just to be safe, he waits a week. When the Mayor doesn’t come by or even seem remotely suspicious of him, Rumplestiltskin returns to the hospital late the following Friday, while Regina is tied up - though he hopes not literally - with the Sheriff. 

The hospital is quiet, most of the emergencies and everyday bustle long over with. No one is nearby, except for one nurse who looks too weary and underpaid to care what the devious Mr. Gold is doing stalking the halls of Storybrooke General. 

With sweaty palms, Rumplestiltskin punches in the code, sighing with relief when the light blinks green and the lock _clicks_. He pushes it open, glances back at the nurse who flips the page of her magazine with a yawn, and steps inside. 

It’s dark and cool in the stairwell, and Rumple can’t resist the shiver that runs through him. This place is fit to be a dungeon, and Rumplestiltskin honestly won’t be surprised if that’s what it actually is. He walks down the stairs, ever cautious, hand on his hip and ready to defend himself if necessary. He makes it to the bottom where a faint light flickers just around the corner. He readies his gun, takes a breath, and jerks around the corner, gun leveled at a nurse.

She looks up wide eyed, her hand instantly reaching below, no doubt for a call button. Rumplestiltskin is quick though, and lunges forward, catching the woman’s wrist in his free hand, squeezing until she cries out in pain.

“Not so fast, dearie,” he hisses, barrel pressed to the woman’s forehead. “Wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid.”

The nurse looks more angry than afraid, but he can still sense the smallest bit of fear. It’s enough to make this work. Whatever’s down here, Regina doesn’t want it to be found, which is more than enough reason to discover it.

“No one is allowed down here,” the woman says, swallowing thickly when she finishes.

Rumplestiltskin laughs. “Except the mayor, I expect.”

The woman’s silence tells him what he already knows.

“I’ll tell you what, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin says in his most menacing tone, “I’ll make you a deal.”

This woman doesn’t owe him money, so he can’t use an outstanding debt against her. But he has other ways of making people bend to his will. Rumplestiltskin may have had magic in the old world, but here Mr. Gold has money and authority. It’s not quite the same as magic, but it’ll do.

“I’m not interested,” the woman said defiantly.

“I think you will be,” Rumplestiltskin says, leaning closer so that their noses are practically touching. “Because if you don’t comply I’ll-“

“What, kill me?” The woman finishes.

Again, Rumplestiltskin laughs, low and rough. It’s enough to make the woman gulp.

“Oh, no, dear,” Rumplestiltskin says, “I’ll make you _wish_ I would kill you.” He cocks the gun and lowers is to her shoulder. “So many places to be shot that aren’t fatal. It’s amazing how resilient the body can be.” He pauses for a moment then adds, “Though I’ve never been much of a gun man myself. I’ve always thought guns were too….quick and impersonal. No, I think a knife would get the point across much more efficiently, don’t you?”

Rumplestiltskin has no plans to follow through with anything he’s saying, but this woman doesn’t know it. And he’s in no mood to try to negotiate. Whatever’s down here is a big deal, he thinks, and if he has this woman terrified at the prospect that he might hunt her down and slowly take a knife to her, then all the better for him. He feels dirty, but Regina’s playing a dirty game, and if he wants to win, he’s going to have to follow suit.

The woman whimpers, and Rumplestiltskin knows he’s got her.

“So, are you interested in my deal now?”

She nods slowly.

“Excellent,” he says, “You’re going to give me any keys you have. You’re going to stay right here and not press that button or alert anyone to my presence. If you do, you will pay. Additionally, you are not to tell Regina I was here. If she ever becomes aware, I will have to conclude that you informed her, and well,” he said with a vicious grin, “I think I’ve already made it perfectly clear of what I’ll do.”

The nurse says nothing, but nods slightly, and Rumple grins. “Keys, please.”

She hands them to him quickly and he steps away, but holds the gun steady. “And who’s going to know I was here?”

“No one.”

He resets the safety on the gun. “Good girl.” Then he swings, and the butt of the gun knocks the woman on the side of the head, rendering her unconscious. She slumps and crumbles to the floor, and Rumple only feels a moment of sympathy for the woman. She’s in league with Regina, keeping some dark secret, and he isn’t going to worry himself over the brutal headache the woman will have when she wakes up.

Turning away, Rumple looks on for the first time at the place he’s in. It really does look like a modern day dungeon, dark, cold, and poorly maintained. Along the wall, there are large metal doors, and Rumple swallows thickly. Who could Regina possibly despise so much that she’s placed them down here to rot?

Walking forward, Rumple reaches the first door. There’s a slot next to the door for a name plate, but it’s empty. Rumple notices a small window with a metal flap, and he lifts it cautiously to peer inside. There’s a small light inside, barely enough to light the room, but sufficient enough to prove that no one is inside. With a scowl, he closes the window and moves on to the next door. It’s the same as before, as is the third door. There are only three more, and Rumple can’t help but wonder if perhaps this is a just a pointless endeavor. But he’s made it this far, and it would be utterly foolish to stop before he’s checked every single door.

He checks the next one, finding nothing inside, and moves again. Finally he comes to the last door and wonders vaguely if he’ll see the same thing he’s found on the other side of all the other doors. He wonders if maybe Regina comes down here for other reasons, though what those are he can’t imagine. With a resigned sigh, he lifts the little window.

There’s someone inside.

He can’t tell anything about the person, other than the fact that they’re hunched in the corner. He grips the keys in his hand tightly and it’s practically an automatic reaction to unlock the door. He opens it, the dim light of the hallway pouring in as he enters. It’s a woman, he realizes as he steps forward. He reaches her, frowning as she flinches, and kneels down before the woman.

“It’s all right,” he whispers reassuringly, “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Whoever this person is, it’s clear Regina doesn’t want them out and about. What could this person possibly have done to make Regina lock her up here?

The woman lifts her head and Rumplestiltskin feels as if his heart has stopped dead in his chest. He stares, mouth agape in disbelief, as _Belle_ stares back at him, looking malnourished, dirty, and afraid. He can hardly resist reaching out to touch her, to assure himself that she’s real. She flinches in his grip, and he instantly lets go, apologizing as he does so. She stares at him, not saying a word, and he wishes she would speak. He needs to hear her voice, to hear his name on her lips.

“Belle? You’re alive?” He breathes, and if finding a dragon in a magicless town once felt unbelievable, this is downright impossible. Belle is _dead._

“Do I know you?”

Rumplestiltskin lets out a sob. She’s real. Hearing her voice, dry and rough from lack of use though it is, proves it’s _her_. But then her question registers, and it’s all he can to do keep from breaking down before her. Of course she doesn't know him. Like everyone else in this damned town, she’s cursed. She won’t know him, any more than she’ll recognize her father or anyone else she may have known in the old world. He’s a stranger to her, and that hurts almost as much as thinking her dead.

With a shake of his head, Rumple bites back his tears and gently rubs her arm. “No, sweetheart,” he whispers, “You don’t. But I’m going to get you out of here. I’m going to protect you.”

Her eyes light up at that, innocent and trusting, and he wants nothing more than to grovel at her feet and apologize for everything that’s brought them to this moment. But it will be a waste. She won’t understand his apologies, and he doesn't want to frighten her with the ferocity and depth of his love and guilt. He’ll save those for when she remembers. It’s only a little over seven years now.

“You will?” She asks, leaning forward and gripping his arms tightly. “You’ll keep that awful woman away?”

He’d been so caught up in the overwhelming shock of finding Belle that he’d forgotten entirely that Regina had placed her there. Suddenly his relief and joy fall away, making room for the undeniable _rage_ that now rests there. In all his life, all his centuries, he’s never hated anyone as much as he hates Regina in this moment. There have been others who have felt the wrath of his dislike: that pirate whose hand he cut off being the prominent one in his mind. Milah, too, had been quick to feel his unholy anger. But the hatred he feels for those two pales in comparison to how he now feels about the Evil Queen.

Regina will _pay._

In front of him, Belle squirms, and he realizes that he’s lost himself in his dark thoughts. He pushes them aside, as there are more important things to be done at the moment. He leans up, hugging her tightly for a long moment and whispers against her hair, “I promise. You’re with me now, and no harm will come to you again.”

It’s a substantial promise to make, and he hopes he can hold true to it. When he feels Belle hug him back, he weeps for joy. She doesn’t understand the cause for his tears, but it hardly matters. Belle, after all this time, is back where she belongs: with him.

* * *

Now that he’s got Belle, the best kept secret Regina ever had, Rumplestiltskin has no idea what to do. He can’t just waltz through the hospital with her on his arm. But he can’t – _won’t_ – leave her here. He has to come up with something. They can’t remain down here forever, and he needs to think.

In the end, he ends up taking the nurses jacket from the back of her chair and wraps it around Belle. He leads her upstairs, her hand safely tucked in his, and stops just short of the exit, an idea suddenly forming.

“Stay right here,” he instructs, “I’m going to create a diversion. You’re going to hear a loud, awful noise, but don’t worry, because I will be _right back_ to get you.”

She nods in understanding, and he wants nothing more than to press a kiss to her forehead. But he resists, and with a gentle squeeze of her hand, he slips out the door, leaving it open just a crack, and surveys the room. It’s as quiet as it was before, but he can’t take the chance of being seen. If everyone is distracted, then he can more easily slip Belle out unnoticed. He moves to the edge of the room, where the nurse is still completely unaware of his presence. He sees a broom closet next to the fire alarm he’s been looking for, and thankfully they’re close enough that he can pull the alarm and hide with ease. He opens the broom closet silently, and steps inside.

Reaching out, he flips the switch and jerks his arm back in as the loud alarm begins to shriek throughout the hospital.

He hears the nurse shriek and chances a look out of the room in which he’s hiding. She’s grabbing some keys and then rushes past him out the door, yelling about needing to get the patients. Now the room is free and clear and so he rushes back to the other door and pulls it open, startling Belle, who has her hands pressed over her ears.

“Loud,” she says and he chuckles.

“It is indeed, sweetheart,” he says, taking hold of her elbow, “But we have to go.”

She nods at once and they make their way out of the room. Rumplestiltskin stops her long enough to dig through a bin of dirty linens, smirking in triumph when he pulls out a soiled doctor’s coat. It’s got something on it, but now’s not the time to worry about what, and Rumplestiltskin slips it on in the hopes that he’ll blend in with the crowd as they make their way down a frantically filled corridor.

No one pays them any mind, the coat apparently good enough for everyone’s panicked state of mind. He leads Belle quietly through a throng of people, completely hidden in plain sight. They reach a side exit that leads them out onto an otherwise empty street. The rest of the hospital is emptying out through the main front exit and the emergency exit. They’re alone in the street.

Wasting no time, Rumplestiltskin pulls Belle along with him, leading her through the streets of Storybrooke, looking around frantically for a place to hide. He hasn’t thought this through, but there was no way of knowing he would find his True Love alive and hidden in a dungeon under the hospital. He hadn’t had time to come up with a decent plan. But now he’s trying not to panic, and when he hears the sirens from the fire truck growing louder, he really wishes he’d taken longer to think.

Then he sees the clock tower looming over the rest of the buildings, and knows exactly what to do.

He pulls Belle, hating that he’s practically dragging her, but it’s a necessary evil. He’ll apologize once they’re safely tucked away in the library. He can’t take her to the shop or to his home right now: that’s _asking_ for her to be found. But he also suspects, as he limps quickly toward their sanctuary, that if Regina realizes Belle is missing, the _last_ person she’ll come to is him. He doesn’t remember Belle, or at least he’s not supposed to, and she won’t risk giving up that information to him. She’ll panic, he’s sure, but she won’t be able to suspect him. Mr. Gold has never been in love, and certainly not with someone named Belle.

They reach the library and Rumple unlocks the door and pushes Belle inside. Once they’re in and the door is once more secure, Rumple sags against it, breathing heavily as if he’s just run a marathon. He hangs his head low, trying to compose himself, and when he finally looks up, his gut wrenches at the sight of his beloved Belle- with her hair in knots, her cheeks sunken in, and her clothing too large and dirty- browsing the bookshelves with the same reverence she’d had back at the castle.

Slowly she pulls out a random book from the shelf and holds it delicately in her hands. “I can’t remember the last time I held a book,” she whispers in awe, and Rumplestiltskin feels years of guilt fall on his shoulders. It’s almost enough to send him crashing to the ground. Instead, he grips his cane and steps forward, his leg in agonizing pain. But he ignores it and approaches Belle, who looks up at him with a small gasp.

“It’s all right, Belle,” he says, taking a moment to shed the filthy doctor’s coat, “You can look around, if you wish.”

Belle thinks for a moment, clutching the book close, then says, “You keep calling me that. Is that my name?”

Rumplestiltskin’s lip quivers. Regina didn’t even giveher cursed memories. She’s a blank slate, with no idea who she is. It’s one thing to wake up with two sets of memories, it’s another to have no memories at all. Rumple’s hatred for Regina rekindles all over again, and he longs for the day when he can make her answer for this.

“It is, sweetheart,” he says, knowing he should probably cease calling her that. He doesn’t want to frighten her.

“How do you know my name?” She asks, “If we don’t know each other?”

He recalls her question in the dungeon. _Do I know you?_

“I know you,” he says gently, “But you’ve forgotten me.”

“Oh,” Belle says, looking almost relieved. “I’m glad someone knows me. I wish I knew who I was.”

Unable to resist anymore, Rumplestiltskin wraps his arms around Belle tightly. “I’ll show you,” he says earnestly, “I’ll help you remember. I’ll keep you safe and make sure you never suffer again.”

He hears her sniffle, and he pulls back to see that she’s crying. Afraid he’s upset her, he begins to apologize, wiping away her tears with gentle touches, trying his best to reassure her. At length she composes herself and offers him a timid smile.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “It’s just….no one has been this kind to me before.”

All composure he’d managed to hold together collapses at that remark, and he sinks to his knees, clutching at her as he sobs. Belle is alive, has been locked away for _twenty-one years_ , and why? Because he cast her out. He no longer suspects Maurice had anything to do with this. He is now certain this is all Regina, and he can only conclude that Belle was locked away because she wanted to make Rumplestiltskin suffer. Just as Mary Margaret has no idea that her True Love is the man in the coma, Rumplestiltskin had no idea his True Love was rotting away in basement. It’s the kind of victory only Regina would create for herself. Revel in the unknowing suffering of those around her.

It kills him to know that while he’s been wasting time looking for princes and learning people’s alternate identities, his beloved was locked away.

He feels Belle move and looks up to see that she’s knelt before him, looking on in concern.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks, he shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart,” he says, reaching out to rest his hand on the one clutching the book, “I’m just so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“You didn’t know,” Belle answered softly, “No one knew. Except that woman.” She shivers, “She liked to tell me that no one knew I was down there. And that even if someone knew, they’d never come for me because I was crazy. She said no one loved me, and there was nothing about me that was loveable.” She sniffles again and looks up at him with a smile, “But then you came.”

“Because _I_ love you,” he answers instantly, though he knows it’s not wise to tell her such a thing. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know anything that’s happened. It’s not smart, but he’s spent so much time wishing he’d said the words, now he has the opportunity to, he can’t stop. “I love you, sweetheart,” he repeats, “I know you don’t know me, and I know you probably think _I’m_ crazy, but I love you. If I’d known you were there sooner, I’d have come for you. Please know that.”

She nods and offers him a small smile. “Thank you.”

He wishes she would return the sentiment, but he knows that’s an unreasonable wish. He has her back, he has a second chance with her, and that’s what matters. Maybe she’ll learn to love him in time, but for now, she’s alive and under his protection. It’s enough. And in seven years, when the curse breaks, he’ll fall on his knees and beg forgiveness and hope that she can see past all his wrongs to forgive him.

But that won’t be for a while yet, and he needs to worry about the present. Right now, Belle is thin, frail, and dirty. She needs a shower, a brush, and some food. But with the chaos outside, he knows he can’t provide her with anything. And he also knows he needs to get home, or at least to the shop to avoid suspicion. He’s reluctant to leave, however, but he can’t take her with him.

Finally, he concedes defeat and tells Belle he has to go, but that she is to stay here. She doesn’t protest, but he can see in her eyes that she doesn’t want to be left alone so soon after being freed. With a sigh, he explains as best he can.

“That woman,” he begins, “Wants to hurt us. If she knows you’ve escaped – and she _will_ find out eventually – she’ll try to find you. I can’t risk that. She knows I care about you, so I can’t keep you with me. You can stay here, and be safe. I’ll come by as often as I can to check on you. I’ll bring you food, clothing, toiletries, everything you need. But I need you to promise me two things.”

Belle nods and Rumple sighs, “Do not, under any circumstances go outside or make any indication that someone is in here. Avoid the windows, don’t scream or make noise. Only use the flashlight I have here if you _desperately_ need it. I can’t let you be found again.”

Again Belle nods. “And the second?”

“Do _not_ go to the basement.”

Belle winces. “I never want to see a basement again as long as I live.”

“Good,” Rumplestiltskin sighs in relief, “Because what’s down there is far worse than where you were.” At her panicked look, he is quick to soothe her fears, “As long as you stay up here, you will be perfectly safe. I know that doesn’t sound very reassuring, but I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Belle says softly, reaching out to touch his cheek in her hand, “You saved me, after all.”

Rumplestiltskin presses his cheek into her palm, kisses it. Belle gasps at that, and he apologizes once more, knowing he’s coming off too strongly in front of this woman who doesn’t know him. But this is Belle, his True Love, and after so long of thinking he’d never lay eyes on her again, he can’t help but take what few touches he can. She seems hesitant but willing, for which he is grateful. To have her cower from him in fear would be too cruel a fate.

“And I’m going to take care of you,” he swears once more, “Just please, stay here. Go unnoticed.”

“I will.”

He nods in relief. “That’s my girl.”

He lists of things she’ll need and asks her if there’s anything she wants. She shakes her head and hugs him in thanks. He holds her tightly, breathing her in. She doesn’t smell particularly good, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. She’s in his arms, holding onto him as tightly as he’s holding her, and for the first time in a long time Rumplestiltskin feels at ease.


	2. Part Two

Rumplestiltskin is on edge until it’s announced a few days later in the Daily Mirror that the incident at the hospital is believed to have been an accident. The paper states that it was most likely a patient who pulled the alarm by mistake. Rumplestiltskin wonders if the woman whom he hit with the gun will come forward with anything, but after a couple more days with no incident, he allows himself to relax. Slightly. He can see Regina is unhappy with what happened, but so far she’s yet to say anything either or behave in a manner indicative of her realizing Belle is missing.

He knows he needs to keep an eye on the Evil Queen, but he has more pressing matters to attend to. Every night at ten o’clock, he walks to the library from his shop where he’s been staying later and later, bringing food and other supplies for Belle. There’s electricity in the building, but he’s certain the city office pays that bill, and the last thing he needs is for someone to see an increase in the bill and suspect anything. As such, he decides against letting her use anything that doesn’t require battery power. It’s not ideal, but they make due. 

She eats whatever he brings her, thanking him profusely before slowly taking a few bites of food. She was fed, she admits a week after her release, but it was never much, and she’s so used to small portions that she can barely eat more than four or five bites of food before she’s uncomfortably full.

She can’t shower either, not properly, but he provides her with all the necessities to make herself as clean as possible. He feels wretched, as if he’s simply moved her from one prison to the next, but the one time he slips and mentions that, she is quick to berate him.

But she’s berating him in a tattered and dirty hospital gown, and he’s long since grown sick of seeing it on her. It takes him a few days, because he has far too many things stored away in the backroom of his shop, but he manages to find some old vintage dresses and offers them to Belle. They’re all too big, but she wears them happily, twirling around as the skirt billows around her, and it’s one of the most precious moments of Rumplestiltskin’s life to see her look so happy.

The bathroom situation is the trickiest. There’s no working water in the library, and he can’t let her out due to Regina’s ever watchful eye. So, as degrading as it is, Rumple provides an old bucket, apologizing to Belle all the while. He’s ashamed that it has to be this way, but Belle- his lovely, brave Belle- takes it in stride. When she admits three weeks after her release that’s she’s started to bleed – she says with a strong emphasis that leaves no room for questioning what she means- Rumple knows this situation cannot last much longer. She needs proper care and soon. But until he can figure out a long-term plan, there are immediate needs that much be addressed.

He enters the pharmacy, knowing all too well that he can’t purchase feminine care products without raising suspicion. But Belle is in need, and he’ll do anything for her. He picks up a few items, a box of tissues, a package of tea lights, matches, a chocolate bar, and some aspirin. Tom, the ever-sneezing pharmacist, rings him up without comment, and it’s with great relief that someone steps up in line behind him. As Rumplestiltskin turns to walk out, he waits to make sure Tom is preoccupied. When the man turns away to fetch a prescription, Rumplestiltskin swipes a box of pads and a box of tampons off the shelf, shoves them into the bag and speeds out of the store.

He’s convinced he’ll be caught, but when he makes it to the shop without police sirens following him, he can’t help but feel accomplished. He knows it’s wrong, but that’s irrelevant at the moment. Belle is in need, and Rumplestiltskin is willing to break any and every law to make sure she’s properly cared for. Later that evening when he sneaks into the library to give Belle what she needs, she thanks him with a hug, laughing with unabashed glee when he presents the chocolate bar to her.

She opens it and takes a small bite, moaning as the sweet flavor overwhelms her taste buds. She breaks off a piece to offer to him, and when he hesitates to take it, she narrows her eyes and demands he share with her. He takes it then, awed by her generosity. She takes another small bite, folds the wrapper over the rest of it, and places it on the small table that she has set up with a variety of items.

“I can’t remember the last time I had chocolate,” she says wistfully. It’s another idle comment, but it hurts all the same.

“I really have no idea how I’m going to repay you,” she says once more when the silence become unbearable. “You’ve done far too much for me.”

“You owe me nothing,” Rumplestiltskin repeats. He’s had to say it at least once a day to her, but she seems insistent on repaying him somehow.

“I know,” she replies, “But I wish there was something I could do to say thank you.”

“Tell me about your memories,” he says suddenly. She doesn’t say much about her stay, other than idle comments about things she’d been forbidden to have. But she doesn’t say anything else.

Her face twists into a thoughtful expression and she sighs. “I don’t really know,” she admits at last, “I’ve been there for as long as I can remember. Apparently I’m crazy. I was told I was crazy. But I don’t _feel_ crazy.” She shrugs, “Do crazy people know they’re crazy?”

“You’re not crazy,” Rumplestiltskin says emphatically, “You were being held prisoner.”

“I’m free now, though,” she says, “And that’s what matters.”

“This is hardly free,” he shoots back.

“I’m as free as I can be,” she says firmly, “And I certainly don’t begrudge having to stay in a library. It’s not ideal, but I’m safe. It’s more than I ever thought I’d have.”

With that that Rumplestiltskin decides something: screw the risks. Belle is not going to live in squalor anymore. She deserves a castle, all that he can offer, and he’s not going to make her piss in a bucket or sit in darkness anymore. So five weeks after he stole his beloved from the hospital basement, he sneaks her out of the library at three in the morning on a Friday night. He’s made sure the Sheriff is preoccupied, as well as Regina –it’s the only time he’s ever considered it a good thing that Sheriff Graham is under Regina’s thrall – and so he has no fear that someone might catch them. He ushers Belle into the back of his Cadillac and instructs her to lie down and stay quiet. She obeys, and he begins the relatively short drive back to his home.

When they arrive he leads her inside, again keeping the lights off to eliminate suspicion from his neighbors. He takes her to a guest room, the one closest to his own, and guides her to the bed. She sinks onto the mattress and after a long moment laughs, falling back and pulling a pillow over her head, squeezing it as she curls up.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept on a real mattress.”

Any doubts Rumplestiltskin has about this fade and he never questions himself again.

Rumplestiltskin watches her, the moonlight streaming in through the window giving him enough light to see her small frame. She moves the pillow away and smiles up at him, and he feels his love for her swell ten-fold. He wishes he could express that properly, but he’s already made a fool of himself, and he doesn’t want to rush things. What’s more important is getting her in the shower, something that has been long overdue.

“Would you like to take a shower?” He asks and she nods eagerly. Holding her hand up, he tugs and she bounces to her feet, her newfound escape from the library seeming to leave her giddy. He takes her to the bathroom and flips on the light. She immediately begins to strip, much to Rumplestiltskin’s shock. She moves as if it’s natural, and he can’t help but wonder if she was forced to strip in front of others on the rare occasion she was allowed to bathe in that dungeon. He wants to ask, but thinks better of it. Those things are only bitter memories now, and they have no place here. Instead he quickly turns on the water for her then rushes out of the room to find her a towel and pajamas. When he returns, she’s in the shower, the steam already fogging the mirror.

He leaves everything on the counter and slips out, trying to get the image of a naked Belle out of his mind. That’s not a good thought to have, not when they’re both so vulnerable. He won’t act on his desires- he’s not that horrible- but he can’t help but admit that he longs for the day when the curse is broken and he can finally show Belle just how much he loves her. He will worship her for eternity, if she’ll let him, her name a prayer on his lips, her body a shrine where he will place offerings of pleasure and devotion.

“You’re still up.”

Rumplestiltskin turns to see Belle wrapped in the pajamas he provided for her. She looks lovely, especially now that she’s properly clean, and he stands and limps over to her.

“I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She tucks a strand of wet hair behind her ear and blushes. “You’ve been so good to me,” she says, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s no trouble at all, sweetheart,” Rumplestiltskin says and Belle’s eyes slip shut.

“I like it when you call me that. It makes me feel special.”

“You _are_ special,” he insists. She smiles.

“You know,” she says after a long moment, “You’ve never told me your name.”

He wants nothing more than to tell her his true name. But he isn’t sure how she’ll handle that, so with great reluctance he tells her, “It’s Mr. Gold.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That doesn’t seem right,” she says with a shake of her head, “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Then what would you like to call me,” he challenges, and for a moment it’s as if they’re back at the castle, bantering like they used to.

Belle shrugs, “I don’t know, Mr. Gold. But I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“You do that, _sweetheart_ ,” he says, before nodding toward the stairs, “But now I think you need rest.”

The yawn that escapes her leaves no room for argument, so Rumplestiltskin leads her upstairs, and once she’s safely tucked away in her bed, he retreats to his own room. Sleep evades him, and it’s all he can do not to break down. Belle has endured _so much_. And all because of him. Once this curse is broken and she remembers he’s the reason for her suffering, he knows she’ll leave him. He prays she won’t, but it’s no more than he deserves. 

* * *

One month after Belle begins her secret stay in Rumplestiltskin’s home, Regina barges into the shop, little Henry at her side. He’s growing rapidly, almost four now, if Rumplestiltskin’s calculations are correct.

“Mr. Gold,” she says tersely, and Rumplestiltskin looks up from the antique necklace he’s cleaning.

“Madame Mayor,” he greets politely. He glances down to see Henry, and for a moment, he can almost see a resemblance of his own son. He shakes that foolish thought away and greets the young boy.

“Young Master Henry,” he says, bowing slightly. The boy giggles.

“Mama doesn’t like you.”

Regina grimaces though it’s certainly no surprise and Rumplestiltskin can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure she doesn’t, my boy,” he says with a gentleness that he reserves only for children. “But I’ll let you in on a secret,” he motions Henry closer. The boy leans in and Rumplestiltskin whispers, loud enough for Regina to hear, “I don’t like her either.”

That makes Henry squawk with laughter and Rumplestiltskin gives Regina a smug look. “What can I do for you, Regina?”

She looks nervous, but quickly masks it and crosses her arms with a huff. “There have been rumors of….an escaped… convict in town. Have you seen or heard anything?”

Rumplestiltskin blinks. “No, I’m sorry to say I haven’t,” he says, and it’s true. But he knows what this is about. She’s discovered Belle is missing. “I wasn’t aware we had any convicts. Sheriff Graham does an excellent job of keeping our little town safe and secure.”

“Yes well, apparently there have been reports of a person no one recognizes wandering around, and supposedly this person is wanted. As mayor, it’s my job to ensure that the people of Storybrooke feel safe and are aware of any sort of instances such as this.”

“And for that, I have no choice but to admire your efforts,” he says placidly. Mr. Gold had always known when to pay Regina a compliment, and this was the opportune moment. It seems to placate her, and the tension in her shoulders lessens.

“So you don’t know anything?”

Rumplestiltskin shakes his head. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve not seen anything out of the ordinary. But if you can give me a description, I can assure you that if I see the person in question, I will let the Sheriff know immediately.”

For a moment, Rumplestiltskin wonders if Regina will tell him anything. He notices the wicked gleam that appears in her eye, though if he hadn’t been looking for it he’s certain to have missed it. He can just imagine what her train of thought is. Assuming that he’s still Mr. Gold, wouldn’t it just be _perfect_ if he were to find his True Love and turn her back over to the authorities. He _knows_ that’s what she’s thinking, especially when she grins and says, “Female, brown hair. Possibly in her late twenties or early thirties. You won’t recognize her, so that should be enough to alert you. Especially since you know everyone in this town, Mr. Gold.”

“Indeed I do, dearie,” he says blandly. She’s told him exactly what he needs to know: she has no idea where Belle is, she has no idea that he has his memories, and she is a twisted soul who deserves everything that’s coming to her when the Savior arrives. 

She seems pleased with herself, and she turns to collect her son, who is staring up at a mobile with unicorns on it. It’s clear he’s transfixed. With a roll of her eyes, Regina tugs on her son’s hand and begins to pull him out of the shop.

“’Bye, Mr. Gold!” The boy calls out. Rumplestiltskin offers him a half-smile.

“Good day, Mr. Mills.”

Now that he’s got the information he needs, he decides to close up shop a few minutes early. Now that he doesn’t have to sneak into the library, he can go straight home, where Belle will be no doubt reading in the dark, curtains drawn so that the neighbors can’t see inside. Once again he’s locked her up, but at least at his home she has access to a better variety of food, a working bathroom, and a large library that, while not as vast as the public one that is locked up, is still quite impressive.

He enters the house and softly calls out Belle’s name. She appears a few minutes later in a pink dress that falls past her knees, and hangs off her as if she were a child playing dress up with her mother’s clothing. She beams when she sees him, and puts the book down in favor of hugging him. She’s very tactile, he’s realized. Even in the old world she’d been very touchy, and it’s with slight relief that that part of her still remains.

“How was your day?” She asks, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend for a moment that they are blissfully happy, married and content in a new world. As he did before he found her, he imagines a scenario in which he comes home early from the shop, greets his wife with a smoldering kiss and declares plans to take her out for a night on the town. She would smile at him, declare that she has a much more enjoyable idea, and leads him upstairs to _their_ bedroom, where they remain until the next morning. But once again he’s allowing himself to get lost in a fantasy, and he needs to think rationally. Regina is suspicious, and because of that Belle cannot stay here.

He hugs her in return and forces away those thoughts. “It was fine, sweetheart,” he says, his mouth feeling very dry all of a sudden. He moves away from her and asks, “How was yours?”

“I read the instructions on how to use the microwave,” she declares proudly, “And then I used it. And I didn’t burn anything! I also read the first twelve chapters of that book you told me about. I really like it so far.”

She’s liked _every_ book he’s ever given her, so that’s not a surprise. He chuckles and motions for her to follow him to the kitchen. “I’m pleased you’re enjoying it,” he says as he pours water into a tea kettle and sets it on to boil. “And I’m very proud of you for using the microwave.”

She grins, no – _beams_ at him, and hops onto the dining room table to watch him as he pulls out tea, honey, and lemon. He thinks back to their days in the Dark Castle when she would perch prettily on the table in the great hall, and try to chip away at his barriers. Now he’s trying to chip away at her, trying to dig deeper to discover what she knows, what she doesn’t know, and if there’s any way she might remember but be afraid to admit to it out of fear that he doesn’t. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

He pulls out two tea cups, a regular one for her, and the chipped one for himself. After taking it home form the shop, he’d debated on placing it somewhere to admire but eventually felt it only appropriate to use it. To use it had made Belle feel more real somehow. Now she was, but it was such a habit to use the cup that he couldn’t bring himself not to.

When he finishes with their tea – a task she admitted to on her first day here that she didn’t know how to do – he leans against the table and quietly stirs his drink. Belle has decided she likes her tea with lemon, something she _hadn’t_ liked in the old world, but it’s such a small thing that Rumplestiltskin can’t find it in him to get torn up over it. Tastes change, and he’s certainly not going to be upset over such a small trait being altered. She’s still his bookish, brave, tactile Belle, and if she wants lemon in her tea instead of honey, then she’ll have all the lemon she wants.

“You cup’s chipped,” she says gently, apparently noticing it for the first time. He’s brought out of his thoughts and looks down at the cup, smiling softly as he recalls the day she’d chipped it.

“Yes it is,” he says wistfully.

“Why is it chipped?”

There’s a thousand things he could tell her: she chipped it in another world a long time ago. He dropped it one day on accident. It came into the shop and wasn’t worth selling but a good tea cup should never go to waste. He could say anything, and she’ll believe him. Instead he simply shrugs.

“Because it’s supposed to be.”

He risks a glance at her, and her nose is wrinkled, apparently unsatisfied with that answer. “That’s awfully cryptic.”

“Indeed it is,” he says, turning to face her, “But I’m a cryptic man.”

“I think you’re silly.”

He gently bops her on the nose. “I’ve been called many things, sweetheart, but never silly.”

She tilts her head and considers that for a moment. “Maybe you just haven’t let anyone close enough to see it,” she says thoughtfully, “But I see it. You’re funny. And kind.”

“I can’t let anyone close,” he admits, “It’s too dangerous.”

“For you or for me?”

He looks at her quizzically at that. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “It’s just…I’ve been locked away for so long that I can’t even remember how long I’ve been locked up. This whole world is so foreign to me. I feel like I should know how everything works, but I don’t. I only know my name because you told me what it was. But I don’t know how old I am, why I was in that room, or how you found me. I can’t go outside because that woman is apparently looking for me, and if she knows I’m here, she’ll take me away and probably make sure you can’t find me again.” Her eyes are full of tears and Rumplestiltskin reaches out carefully to wipe them away.

“It’s just….if I’m not ever going to be able to leave this place or go outside…” she says, “If I can’t know anyone else for the rest of my life, can’t I at least know you?”

The words hit him hard. She’d said almost the exact same thing to him a lifetime ago. Back then, he’d been reluctant to let her in because he didn’t believe she could love him. Now he’s simply afraid that she’ll be taken away from him again. She’s his secret now, not Regina’s. But he’s always been a coward, and it’s never gotten him anywhere. If she wants to know him, he’ll let her in this time. He’ll have to be careful of course, but if that’s all she wants, he won’t deny her.

“She’s realized your missing,” Rumplestiltskin says after a long moment. “I believe she’s going to come here looking for you.”

Belle gasps at that, and Rumplestiltskin puts his cup down, then gently pulls hers from her hand. “I’m going to make sure you’re all right,” he says gently, “I know where you can go.”

“I don’t want to go away.”

“It won’t be permanent,” he assures her, “Just long enough that she can tear through my house and find absolutely no trace of you.”

“Will I go back to the library?” She asks softly, and he can just see the apprehension on her face. As much as she loves the library, it’s not the same as a home, and he isn’t going to subject her to that fate again.

“No,” he tells her, “I have somewhere else in mind. There’s a gentleman who lives on the outskirts of town who I believe will be happy to let you hide away in his home for a few days. He’s an old….colleague of mine, and I’m quite certain he’d be more than happy to do something to upset the Mayor.”

“If you trust him, so do I.”

Rumplestiltskin only hopes he’s not making a mistake.

“But when I get back,” Belle continues, “Will you let me in?”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Belle,” he says sincerely, “If you want to know me, then you shall know me.” He pats her hand, more to comfort himself than her. “It won’t be like this forever.”

Her eyes light up at that. “It won’t?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “In seven years, things are going to change. And then, I’ll take you out in the daylight. I’ll show you the world you’ve been deprived of knowing. I promise. But you must be patient.”

She nods eagerly. “I can do that.”

“I know you can.”

“What happens in seven years?”

Of course she would ask. It’s only natural. Even if she weren’t his curious little Belle, it’s only natural to wonder what will change in seven years. Again, there’s a plethora of things to tell her. But he also wants her to have no reason to doubt him, so he opts to be as honest as he can.

“Someone is going to arrive,” he says carefully, “That will upset the status quo of the town.”

“What will they do?”

“They’re going to stop the Mayor.”

Her eyes alight with understanding. “The woman who locked me up.”

“Yes.”

“Why will it take seven years?”

“She’s not ready yet,” Rumplestiltskin says, “She doesn’t know she needs to be here. But she’ll find her way here, and then things will change.”

It’s still cryptic, but it’s as much as he feels comfortable telling her. She seems to accept it with a nod, and takes a long sip of her tea. When she puts the cup down again, she asks one more question.

“What’s in the basement of the library?”

“A dragon.”

Belle laughs, and it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. “I told you you’re funny.”

With a roll of his eyes, he ushers Belle off the table “Go pack everything I’ve given you,” he instructs, “There’s a suitcase in your closet. Leave _nothing_. There can be no trace of you here. I have a call to make.”

Belle nods and rushes off to her room. Once he hears the faint sounds of her rummaging through her things, of which there isn’t much, he pulls out his phone and dials a number he never thought he’d have to use.

“Have you ever heard the story of Snow White and the Evil Queen?” 

On the other end of the phone, the man laughs madly. “Looks like someone’s alarm went off a bit early.” 

* * *

They arrive at the mansion at midnight. There’s a man waiting outside, and Belle gulps when she sees him. Rumplestiltskin takes her hand once more and tries to calm her fears.

“He’s a strange man,” he admits, “But he will keep you safe. And it’s just for a few days.”

Belle nods, but her attention is focused on the man on the porch. Rumplestiltskin takes her chin in his fingers and tilts her head so she’s looking at him.

“I’m not going to contact you while you’re here,” he tells her, “I need to make sure Regina finds absolutely no trace of you. I’ll come for you in one week. By then we should be safe.”

“You promise you’ll come back?”

“I promise, sweetheart. And I’m always good for my word.”

That seems to appease her, and with a nod she slips out of the car – a device she is equally wary of and intrigued by. Rumplestiltskin pulls out her suitcase, frowning when he feels how light it is, and carries it up to where Belle is introducing herself to a man who says his name is Jefferson. 

“It’s a pleasure, my lady,” Jefferson says, taking Belle’s hand and bestowing a kiss. Rumplestiltskin glares.

“Hands off,” he says sharply, “You’re protecting her, not flirting with her.”

Jefferson smirks and motions them inside. He’s talking amicably about a variety of topics, none of which Rumplestiltskin pays any mind. Belle listens eagerly, though the look on her face indicates that she’s not entirely certain of everything the other man says. Once they reach a bedroom on the third floor, Jefferson whirls around to face his guests, “So you’re hiding from the bad woman, eh?” He asks, the look on his face dark and brooding.

Belle nods. “She wants to hurt us.”

Jefferson laughs, “Of course she does!”

“I promise I won’t disturb you,” Belle promises, “You’ll hardly know I’m here.”

“Oh, I’ll know,” Jefferson says, his meaning cryptic. “Because one wrong move and we’re all in trouble.”

“That’s enough, Jefferson,” Rumplestiltskin says firmly. “You’re not going to scare her. You’re just making sure she isn’t seen by Regina.”

“I can do it,” Jeff says, “But don’t forget your end of the deal.”

“I never forget,” Rumplestiltskin says, “You should know that by now.”

Rumplestiltskin is certain Belle can sense the tension between them, and so to ease her mind, he turns to her, smiles, and opens his arms for a hug. Belle goes instantly, and Rumplestiltskin sighs. “A week,” he swears, “Once I know Regina has gone through my home looking for you, I’ll know you’re safe to return.”

“I’ll be patient.”

He laughs. “You’re far too patient for your own good. But I appreciate it.”

He knows if he doesn’t leave now, he’s not going to leave at all. So with a final glance at her, and one last nod to Jefferson, Rumplestiltskin turns and walks out of the house, leaving his True Love with a man he only half trusts, hoping that his suspicions are correct.

Four days later, he returns home from the shop, unsurprised to see a few random objects he’d placed in specific places slightly moved. He finds the door to Belle’s room shut all the way, whereas he’d fixed it so it only appeared as such. There are a few letters in his office that are scattered, and there are even a few spots on his messy desk where dust has been swept away by fingers clearly looking for something.

Regina has proven herself to be completely predictable. She’s broken into his home and searched through his things, looking for any sign that Belle was here. She found nothing, of course. All of Belle’s things had been packed in a suitcase and hauled away. The books she’d been reading that belonged to him are back in their proper place, and the second tea cup on the tray he used is stored away with a small collection of others, looking like yet another spare. Rumplestiltskin breathes a sigh of deep relief.

Belle is safe.

He goes out to his basement, idly moving just in case Regina happens to be watching. He looks around inside, pleased to see scant traces that she’s been there as well. Rumplestiltskin is nothing but meticulous, something he’d never been able to instill into Regina, and it’s playing to his advantage. Belle is nowhere to be found, and Regina can’t reasonably suspect that he’s hiding her. The only other place for her to look is the shop. But Belle has never been in the shop, which he suspects will be stealthily broken into at any moment.

By the end of the week, Rumplestiltskin notices that a few items in his shop are rearranged. She comes into the shop the morning he finds things in the slightest disarray and chats idly, far too obvious for her own good. But he doesn’t let on that anything is amiss, and she leaves looking frustrated. The woman has explored every avenue available to her, and Belle is gone, a ghost vanished into thin air.

It’s time to bring her home.

He collects her from Jefferson one week after he’d left her there, and he’s never been so happy for an expanse of time to go by. Belle flings herself into his arms, squeezing him tightly, and he promises her right then and there that he’ll never leave her again. Jefferson watches from a distance, an amused smirk on his face. Rumplestiltskin purposely ignores him and instead focuses on the feeling of Belle’s small frame against his, the scent of her shampoo filling his senses and bringing with it the greatest relief.

Now that this ridiculousness was out of the way, all they have to do is wait.

* * *

The years tick by, but no one except Rumplestiltskin seems to notice. Henry is growing into a fine young man, though he doesn’t seem to be fully aware just yet that he’s the only person in the entire town who’s aging. No one else notices it either, and it’s enough to drive Rumplestiltskin mad. He knows it’s the curse, but it’s so blatantly obvious that things aren’t right and he wishes that someone else would finally just snap out of the dull haze they’ve been living in.

Thankfully he has Belle however, to relieve him of his frustrations. In the years since he rescued Belle – something Regina has never seemed to be able to figure out – they’ve gotten much closer, as per her wish. She stays silent and still while he’s at the shop, but when he returns at the end of the day she springs to life, telling him about the book she’s read or the new discovery she’s made. Even after all these years, she’s still discovering things in his home. And every little discovery warms Rumplestiltskin’s heart.

She occasionally asks about the passage of time, but it’s rare that she does so. She really is only interested in Christmas, a tradition she’s embraced fully. She loves the songs, which she plays softly on his old record player when he’s home. She loves to decorate the small tree Rumplestiltskin brought back for her during their first Christmas together. They never exchange gifts, Belle claiming it unfair that he can bring her the world but she has nothing to give him. He tells her every year that her company is enough, and she just smiles and blushes prettily.

This Christmas however, just two years away from when _Emma Swan_ will arrive, Rumplestiltskin comes home to see Belle waiting for him, wearing a festive red dress. “I’d like something for Christmas this year,” she says slowly.

He nods, willing to give her anything she could possibly want. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“I want to go to the basement in the library.”

He begins to sweat instantly. Not only will getting her to the library be dangerous, but what lies beneath is far worse. He tells her this but she is resolved.

“Please, Mr. Gold,” she begs. He knows it’s foolish. He knows the _last_ thing he should do is take her to the basement. For one, she was locked in one for too long. He’s not certain she’ll be all right once she’s down there. For another, there’s a fucking _dragon_ in the basement. If she sees that, then she’s _definitely_ going to have questions.

But then a thought occurs. She has no memories, other than the ones they’ve made together these past five years. This could be a good thing. He could tell her everything, the dragon more than enough proof of their existence in another world. She could be his confidant, could know what he’s planning that way when the time comes, he’s got an ally. Someone who will trust that what he’s doing is the right thing.

It’s practically perfect. So he agrees.

When they reach the library very late on Christmas Eve, Rumple gives her a very stern set of instructions. “We are only going to stay long enough for you to see what’s down there,” he says, “There is to be no talking, no going near it. Once you’ve seen it, we need to have a long talk.”

She nods, though he can tell she’s confused and worried. Hopefully soon things will be clearer. He opens the elevator and they step inside. He pats his side idly, the gun safely tucked away, just in case. When the elevator reaches the ground, he grips Belle’s arm as the door slides open.

They take one slow step out, and motions for Belle to turn on the flashlight she’s holding. It’s small, and won’t cast too much light, which is all the better for them. God forbid Maleficent wake up. Belle shines the light around, and Rumplestiltskin hears the horrified gasp as she realizes what rests ten feet away from them. Rumplestiltskin pulls Belle back into the elevator and sends them up to the ground floor, where they’ll be safe to talk.

Belle stumbles out of the elevator, much in the way he had when he first discovered the secret under the library. Once the elevator door is securely shut he turns to see Belle staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“There’s a dragon in the basement.”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t joking.”

“I told you I wasn’t funny.”

She blinks, looking completely shell-shocked. Her simple world, one that consists of only him and his old, cluttered house, is suddenly upheaved. There’s a dragon in the basement, and she isn’t quite certain what to do with that information. Rumplestiltskin watches as she processes the information.

“ _Why_ is there a dragon in the basement?”

And there’s the million dollar question. He motions Belle to come closer and when she does, he pulls her down so they are both sitting on the still dusty floor of the library.

“The same reason you have no idea who you are or how long you were in that dungeon,” he says slowly, “We’re cursed.”

“Cursed.” She repeats the word, and he can tell it tastes strange on her tongue.

“Yes,” he says, “The Evil Queen cursed everyone in this town, including myself, to a life of unhappiness. All our old memories are gone, buried under a blurry haze of false memories.”

“You mean the Mayor?”

She’s quick, his Belle.

“The Evil Queen,” he says in response.

“Why would she curse everyone?” He hadn’t thought she would believe him, but with no cursed memories, what reason does she have to doubt the validity of his claim?

“Because she wanted her happy ending,” he explains, “And for her, that means that everyone else is unhappy.”

She nods, and allows the information to sink in. After a moment, she glances at him. “How do you know this, if you’re cursed too?”

“Because my curse was broken eight years ago,” he says, “I had it fixed so be I would wake up before anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to make sure the Savior breaks the curse.”

Belle takes a moment, then says, “And that’s the person we’re waiting on. Why I can’t go outside in the daytime yet. The…Savior.”

Rumplestiltskin nods. “Yes. She’s going to free us all from the curse and restore our memories.”

Brightening visibly at that, Belle leans forward, “You mean I’m going to remember soon?”

“Yes.”

She laughs and throws her arms around him. “Oh I’m so relieved,” she cries, then sits back on her knees. “I mean, I’m happy with you and I love all the new memories I’ve made but-“

“It’s not the same as knowing who you really are.”

She nods, then blinks. “You said when you rescued me that you knew me, but I’d forgotten you. We knew each other before the curse, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

She smiles. “I’m glad I knew you,” she says, “I’m glad I _know_ you.”

His guilt bubbles up further at that. “You won’t think that when you remember.”

“Why?” She asks, “What happened?”

He could wait for her to remember, or he could tell her now. She’s trusted him completely since the beginning, though he doesn’t know why. Maybe if he tells her now, she can find it in her heart to forgive him.

“I threw you out,” he says at length, and it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. “You loved me, and I was too afraid to let you.” He chokes up, all the pain that had built up over the years trying to drown him, but manages to gasp out, “She told me you were dead.”

He hears her soft gasp and looks up to see her hands over her mouth. She looks even more horrified than when she saw the dragon. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

Unable to help himself, Rumplestiltskin laughs. She’s the one who’s been shoved in a dark cell, forgotten and all but tortured, and she’s apologizing to him. It’s exactly something she would do, and it gives him hope that one day they can be all right. Perhaps, at the end of all this, she won’t leave him. He knows he’ll never leave her if she gives him the choice.

“You have _no_ reason to be sorry, sweetheart,” he says, “None at all. I should be the one begging for forgiveness. I’ve done so much wrong by you.”

“But you also saved me,” she says gently, “That counts for something.”

“Had I not been a coward, you wouldn’t have needed saving,” he snaps, his anger directed at himself.

“That’s true,” she concedes, “But it shows you learned from your mistake. I think that says a lot about you.”

Rumplestiltskin shakes his head. “You’ve always been far too good to me.”

“I can’t wait to remember.”

“I can’t wait either.”

She crawls forward, suddenly much closer to him than before. They’ve been close, in the years that she’s been hiding in his home. They cuddle on the couch, each reading a book. They’ve shared a bed when she wakes from nightmares that she can’t quite understand. They’re tactile, close. Intimate, even. But it’s never been anything more than out of a desire for companionship or comfort. But Belle looks like she might kiss him, and as much as Rumplestiltskin desires that, he can’t shake the feeling that it’s wrong.

Belle leans forward, and just as her lips are about to meet his, he lifts his hand to her face and touches her cheek, moving back enough so that he can see her. She opens her eyes, looking disappointed. He sighs. She’s not making this easy.

“We should wait,” he says. She pouts.

“I thought you loved me?”

“I do,” he swears.

“Then why don’t you want me to kiss you?”

He remembers the time before, when her kiss almost stripped him of everything he’d been working toward. But his reasons for holding back aren’t quite as selfish this time, he thinks. “Because,” he says softly, “When we kiss for the first time, I want you to have your memories. I want you to be _yourself_. I don’t want you to do something that you may regret. I think we should wait.”

“I’ve been waiting for as long as I can remember,” Belle huffs, not moving away. “All I’ve done is wait. And I don’t mind that, but I want to do something because I want it, and right now, I want to kiss you.”

He’s always been helpless to resist her. He’d do anything for her, has done everything for her, and this is no exception. He doesn’t want to take advantage of her, but she knows the truth of their relationship, if only vaguely. And she wants to kiss him regardless. He knows he should be strong and push her away, but she’s looking at him so sweetly, and it’s been _so long_.

Moving his hand down to rest on her shoulder, he leans forward and let’s his lips brush against Belle’s. He feels the breath from her gasp against him and he groans. Her arms wrap around him, holding him tight. His own arms wrap around her and jerks her forward, causing Belle to break away laughing. But just as quickly as her lips left, they return, and it’s absolute, utter _bliss_.

“Belle,” he breathes, moving to run his hand through her wild curls. She smiles down at him, then presses on last kiss to his lips before moving away.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers.

“Merry Christmas, Belle,” he responds breathlessly.

She giggles and plays with a strand of her hair, a habit she’s picked up since their reunion. He wonders if it’s because before she simply had no other way to occupy herself. After a moment she reaches out and catches his hand in hers. “Thank you for being honest with me,” she says, biting her lip in a way that drives Rumplestiltskin mad.

“Thank you for believing me.” He manages to say.

She plays with his fingers idly, then looks up at him and stares studiously for a moment. “Is Mr. Gold your real name, then?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s Rumplestiltskin.”

Belle giggles. “I think hat suits you much better than Mr. Gold.”

He doesn’t quite think so, but then, he’s never been fond of either name. Rumplestiltskin is a complete mouthful. Mr. Gold is just pretentious and the worst possible on-the-nose pun ever. He thought Regina had better taste than to name him something so blatantly obvious. It wouldn’t be the first time he was completely wrong.

“If you say so, sweetheart.”

She laughs, leans forward, and kisses him again. It’s something he can _definitely_ get used to.

“Let’s go home.”

Hearing her refer to his house as their home brings him more joy than he ever thought possible. Standing, he helps her to her feet, and they sneak their way back to his home, and he counts it as a miracle that they’ve yet to be caught.

After the night at the library, things change for the better. They don’t quite put a name to it, but they’re more or less a couple now, as evidenced by the way Belle always greets him with a kiss when he returns home. She’s taken to calling him ‘Rumple’, and teases him mercilessly about drinking from the chipped cup. He longs for the day that she recognizes its true significance.

He can tell she longs for things too, though she doesn’t speak of them. She sits near the window frequently, though the curtains remain closed. It’s reminiscent of their time in the Dark Castle when he’d kept the place shrouded in darkness. Now he does it to keep her safe, but he knows that she yearns for sunlight. She’s pale and falls into an occasional depressed mood that takes her weeks to recover from. He tries to help by supplying her with vitamins, and the brightest light bulbs he can buy, but he knows nothing will be quite as good as the real thing. He promises that when the time is right, she’ll be able to go outside. Belle just nods and smiles, and goes back to peeking cautiously out of the blinds.

There’s not much time left now, and it’s starting to really drive Rumplestiltskin insane. He’s never wanted something so much in his life as he wants the Savior to finally get here, but he reminds himself that good things come to those who wait, and distracts himself with Belle’s generous kisses. They never do anything more. He never asks and she doesn’t offer, but they are content in their affections. That will change one day, but for now Rumplestiltskin enjoys what he has, very much aware that at any moment it could all be taken away from him.

The fact that it hasn’t yet is astounding, but at least Regina has seemed to stop fretting. She never mentions the missing stranger again, and Rumplestiltskin wonders if Regina just assumes Belle is actually dead. Surely the woman isn’t that obtuse, but he also knows she isn’t going to admit to who the person is she’s looking for. Not to him. He takes it as a comfort, such as it is, and tells himself that once the Savior breaks the curse, everything will be as it should. Belle will remember, they can leave, and he can finally start the search for his son.

He gets so caught up in those thoughts, caught up with Belle, and caught up with pretending to be someone he’s not that he eventually forgets to keep up with the passage of time. His days are spent piddling around his practically abandoned pawn shop and his nights are spent curled up with the best kept secret he’s ever had, reading, kissing, and talking idly of their past and future. She has so many questions and he answers them all as best he can. Some things he tells her will make sense once her memories return, and she just nods and changes the subject. He can’t wait for her to remember. It’s going to be a glorious day when she does.

* * *

One cool day Rumplestiltskin makes his way around town collecting rent. He’s wearing the persona of Mr. Gold and his tenants, as they do every month for as long as he can remember, hand him wads of cash or hastily written checks, their tenancy secured for another month. He’s eager to get back home, where Belle is safely tucked away as she has been for years. All he has to do is collect the rent from Granny Lucas and he’ll be on his way back to her loving embrace.

So caught up in his plans for the evening – a lovely dinner by Belle who has taken up the hobby of baking lately and an early retreat to bed, where they will lie together and talk about what they’ll do when her memories are restored- he doesn’t really pay attention to the person in front of him, but instantly his head snaps up as he hears the stranger inform Granny that her name is-

“ _Emma Swan_.”

It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “Emma.”

The blonde turns around, and Rumplestiltskin instantly sees the family resemblance. She has her mother’s chin and her father’s nose. She’s got that fiery look about her that Snow White once had. It’s a look that dares the world to underestimate her, and she’ll show them just how incredible she really is. She’s perfect.

“What a lovely name.” And it’s true. Other than Belle, it’s the one name that can make him feel absurdly happy. After years of waiting, she’s finally here.

“Thanks,” the woman says, eyeing him for a moment before turning back to inform Granny Lucas that she’ll be staying for a week.

“You enjoy your stay, Emma,” he says as Granny reaches out to him with her payment. She lets him know it’s all there, but at this point he hardly cares. Soon, the rent is going to be the least of all their concerns.

He turns around and nods curtly to Ruby, then wastes no time getting home.

Throwing the door open, he surprises Belle, who rushes out of the kitchen to greet him with a quick kiss. Normally their greeting is chaste, but tonight Rumplestiltskin is feeling good, so he pulls her tight against him and ravishes her lips with his own. She responds eagerly, and when they finally break away, he’s smiling in a manner that feels completely foolish, but he can’t help himself.

“Come with me,” he says, pulling on her hands as he leads her toward the back door. She doesn’t have time to protest and he gives her no time to do so. He pulls her out into the backyard, and Belle stops short and gasps as she feels the warm rays of the sun on her for the first time in forever.

“I can’t be out here!” Belle squeaks, trying to keep her voice down, despite her panic. She turns to step inside, but Rumplestiltskin grabs her and pulls her flush to him.

“Yes you can,” he says, his elation making him giddy, “You don’t have to wait anymore.”

Belle gasps. “The Savior’s here?”

Rumplestiltskin nods. “The Savior is here.”

“And she’s going to break the curse and I’ll remember who I am.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Rumplestiltskin says, “She is. And you will. ”

Belle laughs, loud and long, and then kisses Rumplestiltskin as they stand in the warm embrace of the sun’s light.


End file.
